


Little Scales

by Iceshard1011



Series: Ruby Wings [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Family Fluff, Gen, Kind of literally, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Self-Doubt, not-really-Angst with a Happy Ending, the dragon witch is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iceshard1011/pseuds/Iceshard1011
Summary: Virgil just wanted some water. He wasn't expecting to find a red-scaled dragon the size of a cat rummaging around in their kitchen at midnight.Sequel to On Ruby Wings.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Ruby Wings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884613
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Little Scales

**Author's Note:**

> short note: this oneshot is a little different than the first story in the series (but i hope you enjoy nonetheless)

It was late, Virgil was tired, and he couldn't sleep.

Virgil was tired on the best of days, if he were to be honest. He never slept particularly well and even with extra naps throughout the day, his feet were always heavy as he dragged himself from his bed. Constantly thinking and worrying and predicting was exhausting. He was used to this, of course, but some nights, like tonight, when he could finally get a half-decent sleep something always managed to keep him up.

And god, wasn't realising your throat was parched and begging for water one of the worst things to wake up to?

(Virgil had woken up to much worse, but right now he was too grumpy to think about the positives of the situation.)

The embodiment of anxiety was almost silent as he padded through the hallway and down the stairs, his socks muffling into the carpet. Good. He wasn't in the mood to apologise for waking anyone up.

But as he crept to the base of the stairs, a _thump_ from the kitchen made him freeze.

The lights weren't on. Not even a phone's torch was illuminating the kitchen. If it was one of the others — which it had to be, what else would it be, it couldn't be anything else — they were fumbling around in complete darkness. Why on earth would they be doing that?

Spooked but refusing to admit it to himself, Virgil skulked toward the kitchen, his adjusted eyes darting around the room.

But... when he came across the entrance of the kitchen, he froze. There were no dark shadows, no human-like shapes, no familiar voices mumbling to themselves or clumsily handling crockery. In fact, there was almost no movement at all from within the secluded part of the house, which made Virgil's anxieties simultaneously raise and decrease.

No one there? Cool, he could get his glass of water with no social interaction.

No one there...? Then what had made that noise?

The kitchen wasn't void of all movement. Within the sink there was a small, writhing shape, indiscernible in the darkness. Virgil only caught dull glimpses of flailing limbs before he scrambled for the light switch and slammed his hand against it.

Virgil's eyes were assaulted as the kitchen exploded with light, glaringly painful after being in a dark environment. He blinked, squinting against the dazzling brightness.

However, the now-illuminated room did little to ease Virgil's tense shoulders.

The squirming thing in the kitchen sink didn't look any clearer than it had in the dark. It was a thrashing mess of red legs and maybe there was a tail and whatever it was, it certainly did not belong in their fucking _sink._

Slowly, he lowered himself to the nearest cupboard, eased it open and slipped out the first heavy thing he gripped. Standing, he raised the frying pan and edged toward the sink.

A head popped up.

It startled Virgil so much he almost dropped his improvised kitchen-belonging weapon. He staggered a step back and stared back at the two round eyes peering up at him from an elongated snout.

Getting a grip on himself, Virgil heaved a heavy sigh which half-morphed into a groan.

"I've kind of had my dose of dealing with dragons," he said to the tiny reptile. "It'd do you good to get lost back in the Imagination." The dragon only blinked at him. Virgil scowled and waved the frying pan at it. "I _will_ squish you," he promised.

The dragon's jade-coloured gaze shifted between the pan and Virgil. It didn't look very threatened. That was annoying. Honestly, it looked _amused._ That was worse.

"Are you one of Roman's, or something?" he hissed, poking at it with his blunt weapon. "Do I need to go throw you into his room?"

To his surprise, the dragon's tiny ears flattened back against its head. It hissed, lips curling back to reveal tiny, shining fangs, and launched itself from the sink.

Caught off-guard, Virgil fumbled, dropping the frying pan, which crashed to the ground with a near-deafening _CLANG!_ The dragon landed on the ground and shot out of the kitchen, scrabbling for a hold on the slick tiles.

With a startled cry, Virgil found himself racing after the downsized lizard, although he hadn't the slightest idea why.

He found the little terror trying desperately to flap up to the staircase, but its wings were only beating uselessly against the carpet. For a moment Virgil wondered vaguely if it was injured, and if it had hurt its wings somehow, before he told himself that he didn't care and he needed the pathetic creature to stop flailing around like a deranged pigeon.

He darted forward and clamped his hands around the dragon's body before it could leap away from him. His hands circled around its torso, keeping its little wings trapped securely to its side.

The scaled demon squirmed in his grip, hissing vehemently, but it didn't look much more than a mini temper tantrum, and Virgil found himself watching it wriggle uselessly in amusement.

After a moment of struggling, the dragon went still, shooting what could only be described as a dirty look over its shoulder at Virgil. The anxious side smirked smugly in response.

"Finished throwing a fit?" he asked.

The dragon met his gaze head on, lifted its chin, opened its little jaws, and huffed a plume of fire at him.

Virgil yanked himself away from the stupid excuse of a predator with a yelp, deftly letting go in favour of bringing his hands to his face.

His skin, he quickly found to his immense relief, wasn't damaged in the slightest. The spurt of flame had dissipated quickly and the lingering effects felt more like a blast of hot from the heater rather than actual fire.

As Virgil continued to pat himself down, just to be sure, he looked around the room, thoroughly annoyed that the red-scaled monkey had managed to escape his grip. What on earth was it going to do now? Go wake up the other sides? Rummage through the rest of the house? Drag trash across the living room floor?

He frowned down at the dragon, finding it crouched beneath the television, eyeing him warily. Good to know it was at least scared of him now. Would've been nice to avoid the fire-in-the-face ideal first, however.

Before Virgil could make a decision about what to do with the trouble-making imp, a voice saying, "Virgil?" made him leap out of his skin.

He whirled to see Logan quietly creeping down the stairs, looking sleepy but concerned. It was a little strange; Virgil never saw much more of Logan other than his wide-awake, professional mask. Watching him blink slowly and squint almost uncomprehendingly at Virgil made his stomach twist guilty. God, the ruckus he'd made must have woken him up.

Although— how was that Virgil's fault?

"Blame all the noise on that," he said, pointing at the tiny dragon.

Logan followed his gaze and blinked, suddenly looking more awake, when he spied the lizard pressed up against the cabinet in the corner. He descended the rest of the stairs and peered curiously at the little creature, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"What is it doing here?" he asked Virgil, who shrugged.

"Not a clue," the anxious side admitted. "Figured it got away from the Imagination, somehow. Or maybe it's Roman's pet, or something. It's definitely got his attitude."

The dragon's forked tongue flicked in and out between its teeth. It gave Virgil a hard look that might've been a glare, if the idea of an overgrown (not by much, really, in this case) lizard concentrating on looking intimidating through the look in its eyes wasn't so ridiculous.

"It does seem to resemble the same design as Roman, two days ago," Logan said, as if the dragon were a painting.

Virgil paused, taking a moment to consider that. Logan was right: the little animal had the same coloured scales, similarly shaped horns. Even its eyes — bright pools of melted jade and flecks of crushed clovers — were familiar.

Virgil wondered if Roman had created this as a pet, or some kind of reminder, or something, although he had no idea why. Virgil didn't like thinking about what had transpired in the Imagination not a few days ago. He hated remembering the lost look in the creative's sides eyes, the way he curled in on himself like he was scared to do so much as move, the way he'd screamed when morphing back into his normal self—

Virgil shuddered and forcefully shoved the thoughts from his head. He focused on Logan, who was crouching at the base of the stairs and beckoning for the dragon.

He was surprised when it complied, slowly moving forward to press itself against Logan's outstretched hand. He watched as Logic carefully inspected the mythical animal, gently stretching out its wings, prodding at its side, rolling the tail between his fingers.

"It seems to be unharmed," Logan announced eventually. "Whatever your scuffle resulted in did not include the dragon's injury."

Virgil scoffed in shock. " _It_ was the one who blew _fire_ at me!" he protested.

Logan dropped his head into one of his hands, massaging the bridge of his nose. "I swear, sometimes you adopt too many of Roman's tendencies," he muttered.

Virgil couldn't even begin to defend himself; all of his spiraling thoughts of, "Hell no!" and "I'm nothing like him" and "I'm not the stupid one of the group" and "Just because he would also probably also chase after a seemingly harmless creature if he found it in the kitchen sink at the middle of the night—" all bubbled through into a spluttering mess of no real substance.

Logan ignored him, and when Virgil got a hold of himself, heaving a frustrated breath through his slightly parted lips, he found the logical side holding the dragon in his arms. Albeit, it looked slightly awkward, like neither of them really knew how to place themselves.

The dragon was stretching out toward Virgil, it's round eyes roaming across his face like it was worried about the result of the fire _it_ had attacked with. Virgil pulled away from it, weirded out by its sudden mood shift.

"I wonder if the incident with the Dragon Witch is connected to this dragon's appearance," Logan murmured aloud, studying it with fascinated eyes.

The dragon in his arms startled them both when it bobbed its head in a nod. They glanced at each other. Virgil looked from Logan to the dragon, to Logan, back to the... dragon. He squinted at it. It- _he_ squinted back. Virgil's heart sank.

"I'm not fighting another Dragon Witch," Virgil said, collapsing back against the couch, but Logan was shaking his head.

"I don't believe that's the case," he said, and Virgil blew stray bangs from his face. Virgil didn't miss the way the logical side suddenly looked much more uncomfortable with holding the dragon. Virgil couldn't blame him, and at the same time he was glad he didn't have anything to do with the Imagination or creativity or any form-morphing as aspects. He could barely handle the other side's transforming all the time (which it had better not become a regular thing).

"The Dragon Witch — of which there is only one, mind you," Logan went on, "was weakened immensely in the altercation with her." He adjusted Roman (Virgil was going to murder him) in his arms, as if to try and see him better. The little prince-dragon twisted his neck up to look at Logan.

"This doesn't seem to be the same result as her curse," Logan continued thoughtfully. "Roman doesn't have the same size — or strength, it seems — as he did when directly influenced by her." He narrowed his eyes. Roman looked back at the ground, looking unnerved at Logan's analysis. Virgil guesses that meant the logical side was pretty on-track.

"Perhaps... Roman, have you been feeling under any added pressure, lately?" Logan asked. The little dragon only shifted uneasily in the other side's arms.

"Princey, we're trying to help," Virgil said, and his voice came out much harsher than he really meant it to.

Roman sighed through his nose, glanced up at Logan and gave him a small nod.

"This just seems to be an after-affect of the other day's incident," Logan said, having now been reassured of Roman's feelings. "Stress alongside self-doubt has likely manifested into..." He gestured helplessly to the creature in his arms. Roman looked faintly surprised, but he didn't meet their gazes.

_What would we do without you, Logan?_ Virgil thought, mildly fondly.

"So, what do we do?" Virgil asked. He eyed Roman, a little warily, as if he wasn't sure he _wouldn't_ snap, grow huge and eat them.

Logan's face twisted into... what looked like mild disgust.

"Logan?" Virgil prompted, a little worried.

"Probably what helps normal cases of over-stressing and self-depreciation," he said. "I'm sure starting with open affection and reassurance should be a good start."

Virgil mirrored Logan’s expression. He didn't like that idea either. Even Roman looked a little uncomfortable, but maybe that was just because he sensed the unease in Logan's tone.

Virgil and Logan, meeting each other's gazes, said at the same time, "Patton." Logan nodded and moved forward. Without warning, he disposed Roman upon Virgil's lap, which made them both yelp.

"Uh, _what?"_ Virgil said as Logan turned for the stairs. The logical side sighed. "I'm going to retrieve Patton," he said. "I won't be very long. You can wait for a few minutes." He disappeared up the stairs and Virgil and Roman were left alone, both very quiet and very unsettled.

Virgil could feel Roman's talons digging into his legs subconsciously as he crouched awkwardly on his legs.

In reality, it probably wasn’t much more than five seconds, but it felt like an eternity, so Virgil forced the first words he thought of through his mouth, hoping to distract himself.

"Dragons, huh?" he prompted, in a weak offer for conversation. Roman tilted his head to look oddly up at Virgil. He shrugged in response. "Just find that interesting," he said. "They're classic fantasy villains, and all."

Roman physically deflated, pulling his head away. He went even more rigid on Vigil's lap. Virgil winced inwardly, berating himself for not realising that _that_ topic of conversation probably wasn't the best to tease with. He cleared his throat.

"I think they're cool as hell," he said dismissively, looking away to study a spot on the carpet, eyeing the loose threads. Feeling a pair of eyes burning into him, he forced himself to look back at Roman, who, somehow, looked skeptical and hopeful at the same time. Virgil sighed, and found that the smirk that came to his face was natural and not forced.

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, there are heaps of good dragons out there. Mushu? Spyro? Pete's dragon?" He watched — and felt — as Roman relaxed in his lap, and Virgil felt the tension bleeding from his own shoulders as well. He didn't move as Roman curled up against him, tucking his tail around.

He found he wasn't as bothered with this situation as he might have — or should have — been, but maybe that had to do with the fact that Roman couldn't talk back.

With a sudden rush of noise and colour, Patton dashed down the stairs into the living room and threw himself at the pair on the couch.

"Roman!" he cried in dismay. The dragon twisted, upturned by the sudden movement. Patton lifted the creative side into his arms and pressed dozens of little kisses against his scales, swooning over the morphed personality aspect.

Virgil shifted, pulling his legs up to cross them, now that the small, warm lump of Roman's stupid dragon body wasn't keeping him stuck in one position.

Patton, however, had absolutely no problem flopping back into the couch beside Virgil and bringing Roman up to his chest. The dragon squirmed, shifting to get more comfortable in the moral side's arms.

"Why don't we watch a couple of movies?" Patton suggested.

Roman perked up at that idea, chirping happily. Virgil fought down a smirk at that. He shrugged in agreement. Logan sighed but didn't disagree.

Roman squirmed from Patton's arms, much to his disappointment, and darted for the television cabinet. He looked back expectantly and Logan approached him, crouching down to help him choose a movie.

Virgil glanced over at Patton, watching the way Morality's hands opened and closed slowly, like he wanted to be holding Creativity again. He steeled himself and reached over, nudging Patton's arm with his elbow and offered a small smile when he looked over. The moral side happily returned the expression, and brightened even more when Roman and Logan returned to the couch, having set the movie up.

"What movie are we watching, kiddo?" Patton asked as Logan sat to his right and Roman leapt (scrambled) up onto the couch to settle himself between Virgil and Patton.

Logan handed him the DVD cover. "One that, by picking it, makes Roman think he's funny," he said. Virgil caught a glimpse of _How To Train Your Dragon_ and couldn't bite back the smirk this time. Roman lifted his snout from where he'd pressed it against Virgil's hip and flicked his tail pointedly at Logan. Logan merely raised an eyebrow at him, which was retort enough.

Virgil turned his attention to the movie as it started, but wasn't opposed to resting his hand against the back of the little dragon at his side.


End file.
